Christmas Drama
by Sideshow Cellophane 26
Summary: A certain host (yes, Chris Mclean) is visited by the three Warners of Past, Present, and Future. What will they show him? Will he actually change his sadistic ways . . ? Nah, probably not. But feel free to watch for your own amusement. Rated T for totally destroying the fourth wall in a violent action. Don't own Animaniacs or Total Drama, don't wanna deal with the characters 24/7!
1. Prologue - Getting Started!

**Not Simpsons this year, folks. Started in early November, this is the first crossover of Animaniacs and Total Drama I've ever written. Tell me whatcha think!**

**I own nothing, blah blah blah . . . . All characters go to their rightful owners, and if you haven't seen either one of these shows it is highly recommended you see at least three episodes of each before continuing on into the danger zone. Rated T for not only raping the fourth wall, but some language, intern deaths, and a couple of these: "GOODNIGHT, EVERYBODY!"**

**Filmed in America, some parts of Canada for the time zones. Really, you'll just know from certain scenes where we're at.**

* * *

"_Deck the halls with boughs of holly…"_

Chris rolled his eyes, muting the TV. Maybe if he pretended he wasn't home, then they would go away.

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Tis' the season to be jolly…"_

He sighed, putting in headphones.

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Don we now our gay apparel…"_

Turned the music all the way up after that.

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Toll the ancient Yuletide carol…"_

No, even _that_ didn't drone the carolers out. He got up, wrapping the robe tighter around his body. It was what, thirty degrees out? Twenty?

"_Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!"_

He opened the door a crack, as to not let out the heat. There were seven of the trolls this time. They all had on white coats, a couple were light blue or gray, four boys and three girls (counting a little girl that had joined in). Although . . . one of the ones wearing a blue coat was a . . . a giant chicken . . ?

Didn't matter. He, she, it was still making noise.

Despite the look on his face, they paused and continued singing, "_See the fuming man before us, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la! Strike the harp and join the chorus, fa-la—"_

"For the love of my agent, leave me alone! Some people are trying to watch themselves on TV in here!" Chris slammed the door in their faces, and went back to his warm, soft bed. Thankfully he had gotten the mail _before_ they came—which was probably how they saw him in the first place, and knew he was home.

The first letter on top of the stack was a surprise: Owen had sent him a Christmas card. It even had a Snowman on the cover, and 'Merry Christmas, From Owen' inside.

How cute. Mostly each year the stack was full of fan letters, but there were usually people to take the useless cards out.

_I'll have to fire someone for this…_

As a matter of fact, the whole stack on his nightstand was from Total Drama related people, like a few of the contestants, a couple of interns he had hospitalized (once again, there were SUPPOSED to be people taking these things out!), a couple from the producers and Chef, and one hate-letter from an intern's family (with several death threats if he didn't pay for the guy's funeral). Chris almost threw this one into the fireplace, but put it back with the others. He had to have proof that _somebody_ wasn't doing their job at the post office.

The others, for now, would have to stay there and be an eye sore. He scanned over the names—Dawn, from season four, Chef (he had used the card as an excuse to remind him of the bet Chris lost), Zoey and Mike shared a card (and all personalities signed except for Mal) which was a shocker, Izzy (whose card only consisted of a hand-drawn horse wearing a Santa hat farting on the cover and a signature on the inside), and several interns practically begging for a higher position on the next season of Total Drama. And his own family members, of course, some of whose cards he didn't mind getting. _Some_.

Total Drama Island's 'Phobia Factor' episode came on right before a call came in from his cell—whoever it was, it wasn't in his contact list and the number didn't ring a bell. But nobody - NOBODY - had his personal number, so . . .

"Yello?" He muted the TV.

"Hello," it was a man's voice, "are you willing to donate—"

"Pass," He jabbed a thumb over the 'end call' option, and continued to punch in a few numbers.

The phone rung a few times, and then a sluggish voice came over, groaning. There were people yelling in the background, and odd beeping noises. "Yeah?"

"Manny, there were spammers in my mail again. Fix it."

"Merry Christmas to you too. Listen man, we're really busy this time of year, and there's been an . . . I don't even know _what_ they are, but some, uh, _things_ are causing some serious trouble around here. Can't you just live with a few spam letters and throw them in the fire? It'll keep the place warm and save me extra work hours. You realize how much friggin' mail _you_ get and _I _have to throw out? A freaking _lot_, Chris. And they've been cutting into my family time, too!"

"You're not getting paid to leave spam letters in my mailbox!"

"Yeah, because hate mail and fan letters are spam to you!"

"Oh? And what about death threats and blackmail?" He eyed the dead intern's family letter.

After a few moments, Manny sighed. "Okay. I'll stay after hours again, if we fix this problem here. _On Christmas Eve_. Hope you're happy, man. You now, someday _somebody'll_ get through to you. As for right now, we have a _serious_ emergency on our hands, and I'd like to know what the hell's goin' on back there."

"Oh, and one more thing—"

The post worker screamed, and a loud crash followed.

"Manny? You there, man?"

"I don't know _why_ you're confusing mine with that horrifyingly scruffy voice, but _I _happen to be the cutest person who's ever lived, whether you see me in person or no!"

Chris held the phone away from him—a little girl had answered. He spoke again, "Uh, where's Manny?"

"You mean Fish-Breath? Oh, Yakko and Wakko are currently washing his mouth out with soap—_he's a potty mouth!_" She whispered on the last part. "As for now, I'm the one who's going to answer all of your questions and needs—besides having this girl in your life. Whaddya need?"

"Uh . . ." What was happening at the post office? "What's your name again?"

"Princess Angelina Contesta Lousia Francesca Hanna Banna Bo Beska the Third. But you can call me Dot. Call me Dottie and you die. What's _your_ name?"

"I'm Chris Mclean." A worker's daughter? Terrorists? Who were these people?

"Mclean? Mclean . . . Nope, never heard of ya."

He frowned. "Chris Mclean, host of the Total Drama series?"

"Uh…"

"I've starred in other stuff too, like my most famous role as Flippey, from—"

"Ooh, aren't you that guy who was in that old boy band Fametown?"

His eye twitched. "Uh…yeah."

"Ooh, oh…! Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

"Okay, whatever," he rolled his eyes—stupid kids. "Dot, I would like to speak to Manny, or Fish-Breath, or whatever you call him."

She sighed, "I _told_ you, Yakko and Wakko are bonking him on the head every time he says a bad word!"

He blinked, "You told me they were washing his mouth out with soap."

"But I just told you _now_ that they were bonking him on the head."

_Bonking him on the head? _

Were they _beating_ Manny?! "C-c-can I interrupt Yakko and Wakko and t-talk to my mail sorter?"

"Mail sorter?" She started laughing, "Honey, throw whatever you don't want in the fireplace! It'll be better than getting deeper into this skit and wasting the readers' time."

"Skit?"

"Yes skit, meaning a humorous story or sketch."

"I know what it means!" He snapped, "You're saying that I'm on TV right now? Like _Pranked?_" He looked around the room, for any hidden cameras, and wrapped the robe tighter around his body.

"Attitude, it's Christmas Eve! No, you're just a character in a soon-to-be ridiculously long parody-of-a-parody story. Like fan-fiction, or _Saturday Night Live_."

"You're not making any sense, who are you and what are you doing at the post office?!"

"Don't talk to my sister that way, you Plotz stand-in!" A boy's voice came over the phone now, "We're not making anything."

"We're standing over this phone and talking to you," Another boy's voice joined in, with a slight British accent. He sort of sounded like Ringo, from the Beatles.

"And," Dot finished, "we were offering to help the workers here for a Christmas break, but they were all potty mouths about it!"

"Now then," the first boy's voice came over, "what were you saying right before your fish-breath friend was taken off the phone?"

Without even thinking, he answered, "I was complaining about somebody blackmailing me . . . I think I'm just going up hang up now." He hung up and threw the phone across the room, going into a more thorough search for cameras. This _had_ to be some sort of prank. Was it one of those prank shows, an enemy, old intern . . ?

The doorbell rang, and more carolers began to sing to the theme of 'Noel,' "_If you want to get help for your blackmailing issue, just be nice to everyone, it's easy to do! Oh well, oh well. Oh well, oh well. Deal with your own problems and leave us out too!"_

He stopped, mulling the whole situation over. If this _were_ a show, then the cameras would be right outside the front door, ready to capture his reaction. Even if it wasn't then it would be a good idea to have pants on…

Quickly slipping into some "nonchalant" black dress pants and a white button-down shirt, Chris pulled open the door, laughing. "Okay, you got m—" He gasped, taking a step back.

"HELLO!" Three . . . puppy/monkey children, or whatever they were, were standing right on his front doorstep.

In the background SideshowCellophane26 was holding up a _signed_ contract, her arms crossed and eyebrow raised. (**I, SideshowCellophane26, agree not to abuse my directing position by making a mess out of this year's Christmas story. If that happens, I will most likely laugh at the whole thing…but will apologize later.)**

He glared at her, but turned back to the children. "Wh-who are you?"

The boys said, "We're the Warner brothers!"

"And the Warner sister!" Dot chimed in.

"I'm Yakko!" He jumped onto Chris' shoulder…

"I'm Wakko!" He jumped onto Chris' other shoulder…

"And _I'm_ the girl of your dreams, cutie!" Dot jumped into his arms, and all three kissed him on the face with an exaggerated smooching noise.

"_Blegh!_ Ugh, _what_ are you?!"

"Cute?" Yakko guessed.

"Hungry?" Wakko patted his belly, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Infested with fleas?" Dot suggested.

"We came here," Yakko continued, "to remind you that you didn't wish us a very Merry Christmas. Or to your potty-mouth friend. Also because, ah," He took the contract from SideshowCellophane26, and flipped through it until finding the passage. He read, "You are to…_partake in the parody of Animanaics' "A Christmas Plotz," a parody of 'A Christmas Carol,' under oath that you will not break the following rules…_blah blah blah, seven pages of boringness…ah, here we go! It says here we're supposed to be the three ghosts that show you the error of your ways."

Wakko looked at SideshowCellophane26, frowning. "What happened to the first ghost that's supposed to warn him about these other ghosts?"

She shrugged. "Nobody would take the part, so he was _supposed_ to open a letter that just _told_ him he was going to be visited…but he _burnt_ it before production started!"

"Why can't you make a new one?" Chris asked, still balancing the Warners on his person.

"This is an online story, we don't _have_ paper! Just move on, and Warners: _follow the script!_ The post office is threatening a lawsuit now!"

"Sorry," They all said in unison.

"Positions, everybody! Just take it from Chris watching TV, and then Wakko appears. We've already wasted enough time, let's move! I've gotta go sort things out with the office."

"Should I pretend like I've already read the ghostly letter?"

"Please do, but feel free to keep those clothes on, you look nice in them. Now, places!"

"Oh, wait!" He dropped the Warners, coming up to the author of this story. "If I make a few calls, could you make room for this ghost? It'll get me outta a debt and put your story under Celebrity Manhunt's radar."

"Um…Okay . . ."

"And then we'll take it from me opening the letters. Trust me, it's a good idea!"

* * *

Chris opened Chef's letter, and then the door slammed against the wall.

. . . And then _Blaineley_ emerged into the room, wearing white make-up, white dress, and Styrofoam chains hanging from her wrists. She grumbled, holding a script in her hand. "Okay, what am I doing here?"

"That's a good question, actually."

"You texted me?" She held up a phone, "You called my agent with a role description for a popular story parody?"

Poorly stifling laughter, he said, "Oh, did I call _your_ agent?" More laughter, "I'm sorry, I meant to call Chef's!"

She tightened her fists, narrowing her eyes.

"What? All agents sound alike over the phones. Okay, okay, you'll work in this too, since you're already here. Just say the lines, we're doing it right now."

"Seriously? It's Christmas Eve! Ugh, whatever," She rolled her eyes, and read from the script, "Tonight you will be visited by three ghosts."

"But why?!" He muttered on a side note, "At least _I_ memorized my lines."

"I heard that, wash-up! Uh," she flipped through the script, "because you . . . I'm sorry, I can't even _see_ this! Are these _coffee_ stains? On _my_ script?!"

"Keep going, it's a T-Rated fic for some language and mentioning character deaths and there are _readers out there right now_…"

"The point is you'll be visited by three ghosts! There, I said it! Now where's my—"

"HELLO-O-O-O GHOST NURSE!"

Yakko and Wakko came into the picture, and jumped into Blaineley's arms.

She dropped them, growling on her way outside. "I refuse to do anything else until I get my three hundred dollars! And for God's sake, _somebody fire my agent!_ I'm _done _with stupid cameos!"

* * *

**Due to technical difficulties (thanks, BLAINELEY), we will return with the next chapter next week! Stay tuned to find out if Blaineley-**

**"Hey, Sideshow!" Blaineley said, "I want my money five minutes ago. I've gotta be back in Canada for family by tomorrow, and for God's SAKE get these two runts off me!"**

**She held up her leg, pointing down to Yakko and Wakko, who clung on. **

**Yakko said, "But if you stay you can open MY mail for me!"**

**Sideshow blew a kiss into the audience and said, "GOODNIGHT, EVERYBODY!"**


	2. Ghost of Christmas Past

After everything was done and Blaineley was paid, Chris scoffed. "Three ghosts my butt!" He un-muted the Total Drama episode and sat back on the bed.

He readied to take a sip of the mug of hot chocolate (that just suddenly appeared in this story) when Wakko jumped out of it, giving him a hug. "Hiya, Chris!"

"AH!" He jumped back as Wakko came out onto the bed, the hot chocolate gone as suddenly as it appeared. "Who are you?!"

He snapped his fingers, and background music started to play. After a few seconds, he began to sing, "_I'm the ghost of Christmas past, and all the teens you've harassed! It's time for the movie sta-a-ar to see stuff, from long ago!"_ The music ended, and his tongue hung out of his mouth in a grin. "What? You thought I'd sing the _whole_ thing? Readers skip that stuff, you know," He elbowed Chris, who had crossed his arms. "And I'm about to sing another one!"

"What do you want?"

"I want YOU!" He kissed him full on the lips, and took the remote while Chris wiped his mouth in disgust. "_I'm the ghost of Christmas past and all the folks that you've harassed, be glad I'm here at last cause Mr. Chris Mclean it's movie time so relax and see we'll take a look at your family tree and see how you used to be many years ago!"_ He ended the song with another kiss, and sat back with popcorn between the two bodies and remote in the opposite hand. "Sit back and have some popcorn, it's movie time!"

"Only if you promise not to kiss me again!"

"Aw, but you taste like hot chocolate…deal!"

Slowly, he sat back, eying Wakko as he turned the TV to a different screen with a few clicks of the remote. It showed a young boy pulling up chairs and his younger sister's stuffed animals (along with his sister) in front of an old video camera.

"Well," he shrugged, "what am I seeing?"

"You, when you were seven! Don't you recognize it?"

He squinted his eyes for a moment before breaking into a grin. *"My best childhood memory!"

On screen, the young boy said, "_Ladies and gentlemen! I am proud to announce the first viewing of 'The Chris Mclean Four-Hour Talent Experience!' Starring: me!"_

_The younger girl in front had her head in her hand, eyes already glossy. _

"_Kids?" A woman called down from upstairs, "What are you doing?"_

"_Hosting!" Chris answered, and went on to juggle two butter knives and a plastic spoon for the first act. He then asked for a volunteer, when the little girl raised the hand of a stuffed rabbit. "Susan! I'm so ever glad you would be so kind as to volunteer yourself!"_

"_But I don't wanna!" She whined, "You woke me up during my naptime!"_

"_Then drink coffee, we have three hours fifty-five minutes to go before I run out of lines and talents—" he smiled at the camera, "that I will allow my loving fans to see. Everyone give Susie here a hand!" He clapped slowly as she got up sluggishly, slouching all the way to the imaginary stage. "Now all I need you to do is stand here, completely still, while I throw these knives at you. Stand against the wall, like that, yeah. Now . . ." he took one out of seven knives, aiming it at the tired kindergartener. "Hold steady."_

"_I'm tired!"_

_Just as she spoke, startling him, he had thrown the knife not into the wall next to her body as planned, but . . . had literally just missed her neck by the necklace string on the girl the knife hit._

_Both stood there, stunned, before he grinned and grabbed another one. "I'm good, aren't I?"_

Wakko pressed the skip button on the remote, turning to him. "You were mean from the start, torturing your poor sister like that. Remember when you were nine, and your mom took you for your first cat food commercial?"

"How do you know all of this stuff about me?!" He crossed his arms, glaring at the screen. "Better yet, how did you get all of this on film? Not cool, you little stalker!"

"This next one's sort of short, if that helps."

"_C'MON, people!" An older woman stomped onto a real stage, dragging by the arm a slightly older Chris. There were cat food signs in the background, and actual cats were crawling around everywhere. She let go of the boy's arm, going up to the director. "Are you seriously going to let these animals waltz around everywhere, with everyone trying to get to the places they're supposed to be? I almost tripped over one!"_

"_Mrs. Mclean," The director rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. "They're SUPPOSED to be free to roam, it's a part of the deal we made with the pet adoption company they're from."_

_She let go of the boy's arm to argue with him further upon this subject; Chris took full advantage of this to walk over to a nearby bench, scanning over the script._

_He tripped over a black cat with urine-colored eyes, hitting his head against the bench corner and passing out._

"Ouch," Wakko winced, taking a look at the current Chris beside him.

"Not my best moment, yeah…I remember I woke up about an hour later…"

_While all of the adults argued and fussed over his head, he saw an extra come running with a first-aid kit, trip over another cat, and fall face first flat on the floor. __Everybody went silent—the only sound being Chris' laughter._

"You didn't have any sadistic feelings up until this point, we think."

"You _think?_ Dude, how much stuff do you know about me?"

"Enough," He grinned, and, with a snap of his fingers, all traces of his being there were gone.

Chris was alone in the room. He looked around, going so far as to get up before someone rang the doorbell. "It had better not be any more surprise cameos…"

* * *

Having heard this, Sideshow pointed to Cody, shaking her head. She whispered, "No cameo! Don't go on, we're on a tight schedule to midnight!"

He sighed and walked off-set slouching. "Aw, man. I'll NEVER get a cameo!"

"But we have each other, don't we?" Sierra came up from behind him, and chased after when he started to run away.

"Nah-ah-ah, sister!" Yakko grabbed her arm, dragging her back. "You have a skit in the chapter after next you have to do and you aren't gonna leave us hanging! _Wardrobe!_ Get this girl to a dressing room! And somebody get me a hot drink, I need my voice pitch-perfect by midnight_ exactly!_ Hey, you! Cameraman! Save the camera batteries and get me something for my voice!"

"Yes sir..." The camera was shut off.

* * *

When he opened the bedroom door, a package already sat there. It was red, with a green bow. "Okay, so what's the catch?"

Dot, in her costume, popped out and kissed him. "Me, you cute thing, you!" She hopped out, "I'm the ghost of Christmas Present—it's the pun from the show, get it?"

"Yeah, we _all_ know," He rolled his eyes. "Now sing your song we can move this thing along. No rhyme intended!"

"You know, you're actually supposed to learn something in _real_ life from this. The end of the story is supposed to be us recording the results of showing you these. But anyway," She cleared her throat, and began to sing, "_Now follow me young man, causing pain whenever you can on your Total Drama show! You're guilty in the first degree of causing pain and misery so it is time for you to see so c'mon here we go!_" She grabbed his wrist, swinging him into the box with her.

They fell feet-first onto none other than the Island Wawanakwa.

* * *

***- Gotten from a Wiki page. Also, in the episode 'Broadway Baby!' of Total Drama World Tour, he mentions having a sister. **


	3. Ghost of Christmas Present

When he opened the bedroom door, a package already sat there. It was red, with a green bow. "Okay, so what's the catch?"

Dot, in her costume, popped out and kissed him. "Me, you cute thing, you!" She hopped out, "I'm the ghost of Christmas Present—it's the pun from the show, get it?"

"Yeah, we _all_ know," He rolled his eyes. "Now sing your song we can move this thing along. No rhyme intended!"

"You know, you're actually supposed to learn something in _real_ life from this. The end of the story is supposed to be us recording the results of showing you these. But anyway," She cleared her throat, and began to sing, "_Now follow me young man, causing pain whenever you can on your Total Drama show! You're guilty in the first degree of causing pain and misery so it is time for you to see so c'mon here we go!_" She grabbed his wrist, swinging him into the box with her.

They fell feet-first onto none other than the Island Wawanakwa.

Chris dusted off his shirt, which was now the regular outfit we see him in on the show. "Hey, this isn't in the script!"

"So? We made a few changes."

He looked around. They were on the sandy beach, a challenge in the process of being set up. "Oh, I can only imagine what you'll do with this one. But I have you on a technicality—this isn't the present, it's my past!"

"True, but Wakko didn't show you this. It had to be bumped off for the four-hour-talent show, and this takes up just about all of _my_ time, meaning _Yakko_ has to do one of _my_ skits."

"So what's the point of being the Ghost of Christmas Present if you don't show me anything from the actual _present?_"

"Yeah, we know. Just go along with it kid, we worked too hard on this whole time-travel thing for you to spoil it with a simple question like, 'Why's the Ghost of Christmas Future showing me a clip from the present?' Oh, you'll get it in the next chapter."

He shrugged. "Okay. Well, show me whatever you want, I've watched all of this several times before."

"But what about _behind_ the scenes?"

He frowned, looking around. "If this is about the whole Larry's-offspring-resembling-me thing, then you have no proof _whatsoever_ that we—"

"Whoa, honey! TMI, keep it at a T-Rated show here! Nobody wants to know about you and an unknown gender mutated plant's life," She pointed a bit farther down the beach, "There, look and be distracted!"

Some of the campers (yes, I know you don't care who so I won't name them) were standing to the side, watching Chris cover a hole with a shovel.

Trent was standing over this hole, reassuring somebody in there she—he realized was Gwen—had enough air to last an hour, and she would be in there for five minutes.

"Why am I watching an episode of TDI?" The current host asked.

"Because this is one of your darker episodes. We would've watched the whole thing, but that would be copyright infringement and time wasting. So, this is the scene we decided on."

"You said these would be off screen though."

"Watch."

"Hey," Trent said. The scene had changed to when Chris was controlling Geoff's hail storm. "You ever feel like you've forgotten something?"

"Yeah," Past host said, "sometimes. I usually ignore them until the feeling goes away." Both current and past host laughed, "Watch this, I'm gonna _bury_ him in hail!"

"Bury?! Aw _crap_, Gwen!"

The scene changed once again, to a couple of interns handing Chris two shovels, as Trent was on his hands and knees digging with his hands. He took one of the shovels, both digging.

"Oh God oh God oh God oh God," Trent repeated himself nine times before the host sighed.

"Dude, chill out. It's only been what? Like, forty minutes?"

"IT'S BEEN TWO HOURS, MCLEAN! IF SHE'S DEAD, YOU'LL HAVE SO MANY LAWYERS ON YOUR BUTT YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HIT YOU!"

He grimaced, and dug a bit faster, now significantly more worried about this than before.

"Okay," Present Chris said, "_That_ part was behind the scenes."

About five minutes later, after Cody's trash bomb went off, and after they had to dig two other holes to find the right one, Trent finally got to Gwen. He grinned, "Gwen, you did it!"

She threw her walkie-talkie at his head.

"She's alright!" Chris called out, "She's alright!"

Dot nudged Present Chris' side, and ushered him into the forest.

"What? Where are we going now? Behind the scenes next, the color of her skin was a really cool shade of red. Like she was about ready to kill one of us."

"You _still_ don't see the effects of your actions. It was _you_ who sent that mime out, leaving nobody there to watch Gwen while she was under. That's why she was furious, and-" Something started beeping—she pulled back her sleeve to reveal a watch. "Well, our time here's done." She snapped her fingers, and they were at a graveyard. "Now _here's_ the dark one. We're in the present now. Look around, and tell me what you see."

He took a slow step forward, and another, going up to the first grave marker. "David Currings, 1986 through 2010 . . ."

_. . . . Total Drama World Tour, 'Walk Like An Egyptian.' The skeleton intern I used as a footstool._

"There are more, honey," She spoke softly. "Oh, by the way. The third ghost'll be here on the first stroke of midnight. You have a couple minutes here to see everything."

His heart sunk, and eyes trailed to the next marker.

Another dead intern. And another after that. And another after that.

"Is this for real? None of this is in the script . . !" He turned around; Dot wasn't there. "I know that a lot of them have been hurt, starved, eaten, mutated . . . Er, I mean, I know a lot of em' have been tortured mentally and physically, but there hasn't been anything about deaths-" He stopped. All of that hate mail he had asked Manny to destroy, all of the fan-letters . . .

An old couple now walked up to David's grave. Both had grim faces—not of sorrow, but hatred, determination. The woman held with her a single flower, which she placed upon the ground in front of it.

She sighed, bowing her head. "The yard's grown since our last visit."

"They aren't _all_ from the show, love. It's a regular graveyard."

"But they were all buried _here!_ Mclean hired them from _this town_, they were buried in _this_ yard!"

_They don't even realize I'm here._

"It wasn't just him," The intern's father (obviously, from their apparent ages) wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You know it wasn't just him."

"But he used him as a _footstool_ and—"

"No. Just . . . no. It's Christmas Eve, darling, let's leave. Let's just go. David will always be in our hearts, forever and always. One day, karma _will_ catch up to Chris. Whether it be on the show, by another enemy's hands, his own passing over…it _will_ come one day."

Chris didn't wait to see them anymore, hear any of that. None of this was in the script (**in the script** **we provided for him at the time of before this started…Guess he didn't get the new one. Oops.)**,and the mood of the story had changed drastically.

"I gotta get outta here before the third ghost comes!"

All too late, a clock rung midnight, the chimes echoing all around him.


End file.
